


Follow You

by sassysatsuma



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Brasidas joins the adrestia crew, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, and kassandra is a sarcastic, but extremely talented mistios, my attempt at the romance option i wanted AS Odyssey to give me, spartans to friends to lovers, where brasidas is a know it all spartan spy/officer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassysatsuma/pseuds/sassysatsuma
Summary: "Against all of her better judgement, Kassandra already felt bonded with Brasidas, a friendship that she'd tried to fight for fear of what it might become. He was a man she admired, respected, trusted. A man who in another life may have even been someone who could have had her heart. He was everything she should avoid, everything that could make her vulnerable.A potential weakness that she couldn't afford."A Assassin's Creed Odyssey AU, where Brasidas joins Kassandra and the rest of the Adrestia's crew.





	1. Blood in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 'And the Streets Run Red" main quest mission, so be wary of spoilers!! 
> 
> The developing love story of Kassandra and Brasidas in an AU where he joins the crew of Adrestia and becomes Kassandra's trusted second in command and confidante. The slow burn, Spartans to friends to lovers romance that I wanted Ubisoft to give me. Hopefully someone else enjoys it too. 
> 
> I'm using artistic license to allow Kassandra time to brood before moving on from Athens, please forgive me. :-) 
> 
> -x-Sass-x-

There wasn't enough honeyed wine in the world to soothe her soul, but what paltry supply she had at least helped dull her senses.

It was a weakness, drinking herself into a stupor, high in the scarred mountains that overlooked Athens. She was vulnerable and exposed, legs dangling as she sat on the edge of the jagged grey rocks. Her only advantage was her high vantage point, but with nowhere to run and no one but Ikaros flying high overhead she made for easy prey.  If Nikolaos had been able to see her, he would have scolded her for casting aside everything that he'd taught her like a petulant child.

And yet Kassandra struggled to care. That night, it would have taken more than the combined spears of Athens, Sparta and the cult to faze her.

The sun was losing height, falling from its perch in the sky and setting the world beneath her in a soft orange glow. At her feet, lay Athens, the city a husk of what she remembered from the beginning of the siege. Heavy grey smoke billowed up from its streets as the plague raged on, and outside the gates the red banners of Sparta grew more numerous, the soldiers drawn to the dying city as a shark was drawn to the scent of blood. Come nightfall she would be forced to leave her perch and head back into the city, bound for the Adrestia where Aspasia hid far away from unkind eyes. Under the cover of darkness they had planned to slip away unseen, into the inky black of the high seas and away from the Cult's grasp.

Barnabas had urged her to stay near her ship and wait with the crew, but his pleas had fallen on Kassandra's deaf ears. Up until that point, her every action had been muscle memory, her body working automatically as she guided Aspasia, Sokrates and Hippocrates through Athens' twisting labyrinth of streets. She hadn't needed to think once, acting purely on instinct while there were lives depending on her.

Only when they were safe had she found her voice, asking Sokrates and Hippocrates to ensure that Phoibe was laid to rest. A lump had risen in her throat simply from saying her name, the sudden realisation that she would never see her mischievous smile again as heavy a blow as a spear to the chest. It had hurt, pushing coins into Sokrates hands for him to use for the ferryman, a deep, stabbing pain of guilt and anguish that had rendered her speechless once more. She hadn’t been able to go back for Phoibe, not with the Cult darkening every Athenian alley. But that didn't balm the guilt in her soul, the voice of her conscience that screamed at her, cursing her for sending a stranger to honour Phoibe when in reality it should have been _her_.

Like a coward, she'd run after that. Run to the mountains where her conscience could punish her freely.

The animal skin in her hands sloshed as she lowered it from her lips, still half full with wine. Normally Kassandra wasn't one to drink anything so sweet, but it was the effect that she chased that evening and not the taste, her body aching for something to make the hole inside herself feel that little bit smaller. In her heart, she knew that it was the cult who were to blame for Phoibe's death, that it was their four, cowardly sentinels who had chosen to rob the life of a child. But that knowledge did little to silence her own grief, her own anger towards Aspasia for putting Phoibe in harm’s way. With her rage had come even more guilt, Kassandra a hypocrite to judge others when she had allowed Phoibe to help her steal and outwit her own enemies in the past. It was too painful to think of how if Kassandra had shunned Phoibe's friendship from the start then she would still be alive, running around after Markos back on Kephallonia.

Away from the cult. Away from Kassandra. Being associated with either seemed to always result in death.

The animal skin found her lips again and she swallowed down another heavy slug, body shuddering at the sickly, overbearing taste. She sighed, a long steady outbreath that slipped into the steadily cooling air. Kassandra was poised ready to take another sip when the sound of branch snapping behind her caused her body to jump, the animal skin tumbling into her lap as she grabbed for her spear, whirling around with as quick reflexes as she could muster in her inebriated state.

She was met instead with a smile.

"You spilled your wine." Brasidas. She'd expected Barnabas or Odessa from her crew, had a scowl prepared for them specially. Instead, she was met by the eyes of a Spartan who had the uncanny ability to catch her off guard, his hand outstretched towards her in a blatant display that he meant no harm. He was a man she had never expected to see again after their brief alliance in Korinth, despite a secret desire deep within herself that had wanted to. In truth, the man had been a constant temptation in her thoughts since the day that she'd met him, a warrior equal to herself, but with good humour and wit that often felt lacking in a Spartan. Although their friendship had been short, she'd felt an affinity for the man, a camaraderie that put her at ease despite the mistrust in her heart. 

Oddly, he was likely the only man she could stomach that evening.

" _Malaka_..." Her guard lowered, Kassandra suddenly became aware of the damp feeling on her legs, hissing as the remainder of her wine had spilled across her leather tassets. She grunted in irritation, swiping off the liquid with the flat of her hand. "There goes my evening."

"Here..." Moving so that he was standing beside her, Brasidas handed her another animal skin, this one full and presumably his. "You look as though you need this more than me, _mistios_." He smiled to her, a warm gesture that caused the skin around his eyes to crease and waited for Kassandra's nod of gratitude in return. "Although the price is that you let join you whilst you drink my wine."

"It's a free mountain..." Kassandra shrugged at her surroundings, giving him whatever indication he'd been looking for to stay as she watched him sit beside her, his legs stretching out over the edge to mimic her own. "Although I can't promise you good company."

"I'm afraid that you have little competition there, friend. An idle Spartan camp makes for the poorest of company." He laughed at his own joke, turning to her with a joviality that Kassandra herself couldn't mirror. "The men are bored and restless waiting for Athens to fall. Nothing could be worse company than _them_ right now."

"I can try if you like." Kassandra muttered, her voice still heavy. Her actions spoke against her words however and she passed the wine back to Brasidas, somehow not as irritated by his presence as she should have been. He accepted the skin wordlessly, tipping back his head to drink, the pause allowing Kassandra a moment to assess his presence beside her. Unlike in Korinth, Brasidas was no longer dressed in his Spartan uniform, his clothes more similar to her own, a heavy Athenian chestplate replacing the Spartan armour she'd expected. He still carried a spear, but was without his shield, although his hair was still set in its typical, braided style. "... How long have you been a spy in Athens?"

"Ever since you killed the Monger. With my help, naturally." Brasidas beamed, unabashed by her assessment. A soft chuckle left his throat. "Sparta has a need for eyes and in truth I'm no good sitting idle outside a besieged city's walls." He smiled again. "I get restless too."

"But you're winning." Kassandra spoke ruefully. "Surely you want to be there when Athens falls?"

"Perhaps, but for me there's little glory in killing a wounded animal. I thank Ares for his favour in this war, but plague doesn't care whether a man be Athenian or Spartan."

"Sparta would run? After everything?"

"Strange words from a daughter of Nikolaos." Brasidas shook his head. "Athens is weak, yes, more than we could have prayed for. But if the plague threatens to leave the city's walls, Sparta won't lose men to attrition. The kings would call it a retreat. That always sounds better than running, eh?"

When she didn't share in his laughter, Brasidas paused for a moment, glancing at her in a way that made her feel under scrutiny. Although she considered the man a friend, her survival instinct didn't allow her to be at ease with how easily he seemed to be able to read her. "... I heard about Perikles."

"I didn't kill him."

"It didn't sound like your work." Brasidas shrugged, the usual good humour in his voice gone. Instead he was suddenly serious, his brow furrowed. "Is that why you're here?"

Kassandra would have laughed at that, had she been able. Perikles had been an ally of sorts, a man who had once held her admiration before she met him and realised that the father of democracy was just like all the rest. She hadn't disliked the man, but his death at the hands of her brother had felt more like a personal failing than the loss of a trusted friend. Perikles had been a great man and accomplished leader, the kind of noble that the Gods would most certainly grant access to Elysium to. She didn't mourn the man, only resent the fact that Alexios had been good to his word after all.

"Perikles wasn't the only life lost today." She answered, snatching the wine back from his grasp as soon as it was offered.

"A friend then?" Kassandra should have hated him for pushing her, but somehow his questions didn't rile her. Instead, she met with the kind eyes now looking at her with understanding, the eyes of a warrior who had loved and lost as many times as her. There had always been that solidarity in their short friendship, a respect between warriors that ran deeper than their differing allegiances.

"... A sister." The word was like ash in her throat and Kassandra swallowed another gulp of wine, tearing her eyes from his in the process. "A child. Cut down by the same assassins as Perikles... Phoibe."

" _Kassandra_..."

"Don't." Tears were already gathering back in Kassandra's eyes, but she willed them not to fall. Instead she looked back to Brasidas, biting back raw emotion as best as she was able. "I can't hear one more person say that it _wasn't_ my fault. I heard her scream, I killed her attackers. But I was too late."

"You were there."

" _She died alone."_ Kassandra shook her head, eyes blinking back tears. "I loved her like she was family and I failed her."

"Is it possible to fail what the Fates have already decided?" Brasidas sighed, his words questioning rather than judgemental. He shifted his position beside her, pivoting on the spot so that she couldn't escape his gaze. "The Gods are cruel, Kassandra. They take from the best and give to the worst." 

"You sound like Herodotus."

"Maybe Athenians are wiser than we give them credit." He smiled, the action soft and at complete odds with the soldier wearing it. "Maybe one day you'll listen to one of us."

Something about that smile gave Kassandra pause, disarming her entirely when she opened her mouth to argue further. Instead, she shook her head in frustration, a small grunt leaving her lips before the animal skin replaced it, the time it took to drink giving her pause to regroup. By the time she stopped, lowering the skin in her hands so it hung between her legs she had regained her composure, the lump in her throat replaced with questions.

Questions designed to push away the friend who was trying his hardest to silence her guilt.

"Why are you here, Brasidas? To play a priest and preach to me about the Gods? Or does the glorious Sparta need the help of a simple _mistios_ again?"

"Neither." It was almost as if he had seen her anger coming with the way that he laughed. "Would you believe me if I told you that it was to save you from awful honeyed wine?"

" ** _No_**."

"The truth then." He swallowed, as though her dismissal of his joke had knocked the air from his lungs. "I came because I heard whispers of a _mistios_ leaving Athens with an eagle at her shoulder. A _mistios_ who fights like Athena herself." He paused, meeting her gaze. "A _mistios_ I consider a friend."

"You know so little about me."

"I know that when you fell from mount Taygetos you passed into Spartan myth. I know that you share the same blood as Leonidas and that although Sparta failed you, you still honour her in the way you fight your way across the Greek world. And I know that it was you who helped Nikolaos to victory in Megaris."

"How?"

"The same reason I knew it was you leaving Athens. Your eagle gives you away, Kassandra. Besides... it is convenient, is it not? Nikolaos went missing immediately after the Megaris campaign, a battle that saw him reunited with the daughter he thought he'd killed to appease the Gods?"

"If it's as convenient as you say, then shouldn't you be honour bound to kill me?" Kassandra raised an eyebrow, her words flat and without fear. "To avenge Sparta's great general?"

" _Perhaps_... if I truly believed the general dead. But it's hard to avenge a man who still draws breath. Anyway..." A small chuckle left his lips. "I'm not so stubborn a Spartan as Nikolaos."

"For what it's worth... I couldn't kill him." Kassandra wasn't sure if it was Brasidas' honesty that had the truth spilling from her lips or the simple fact that she had been holding it back for so long, but suddenly the words were on her tongue regardless. "I held him over the cliff as he did when I was a child. I planned to do exactly what he had done to me, to rob him of everything that he took from me. But then, I remembered everything. The pride he had for me as his daughter, the way he taught me to fight. I couldn't forget everything that he took from me, nor could I forget that I loved him once."

"He made a mistake, no doubt the Gods have made him pay for it every day since he did." Brasidas smiled. "I for one am glad that you survived."

"Because I killed the Monger?"

"That made my life a lot easier, I'll admit." The creases were back in the corners of Brasidas' eyes, his mouth dropping open as he let out another characteristic chuckle. For a man so hardened by battle, his good humour rivalled that of Dionysus himself. "But it was also an honour to fight by your side. I would do so again, given the chance."

"I'm not a Spartan, not anymore." Kassandra returned his words with a smile, the best that should muster in the face of his kind words. "We're unlikely to meet on the field of battle."

"Then perhaps we do not have to fight as Spartans."

"Meaning?"

"You have a crew, yes? A ship?" He paused, worrying his lip as his confidence faded before her eyes. Suddenly he looked anxious, as though he might overstep at any moment. "I know that you are planning to sail to find Myrrine. My spear is yours if you want it."

"As a Spartan?"

"As a _friend_." He grinned, stroking a hand across his beard. "I'll never stop being a Spartan, _mistios_. But Sparta owes you a debt for your work in Korinth. The kings will never acknowledge what you did and no one will ever thank you for the lives that you saved in that warehouse. But I would like to balance the scales, if you'll let me?"

"I'm no Spartan general. You'd really follow my commands?"

"Even if they lead to Hades himself." His words sounded flippant, but the implication was anything but. "I'm not your father, but I am good to my word. The Gods took from you today, Kassandra, more than their due. I won't pretend that I could ever make up for what you've lost, but I'm willing to help reunite you with your mother, no matter where that journey takes me."

Kassandra faltered at that, words of rejection having already formed on her tongue, held behind reluctant lips. As soon as he'd offered her his spear, she'd felt her stomach churn under the weight of his words, her heart thudding hard beneath her ribcage. Her first instinct had been to turn him away, to stubbornly reject his offer and send him back home to the Spartan camp far below their perch. With the wine in her system causing her head to swim, Kassandra knew that it was the right choice, the safest, her mercenary intuition screaming it to her through the fog in her thoughts.

She needed to turn him away simply because she couldn't afford for him to become a distraction, a complication in her hunt for her mother and to destroy the cult.

She didn't need someone else to _lose_.

Kassandra's crew were her family and even then, the word didn't do the bond she shared with them justice, the men and women who sailed by her side her world when they were out battling Poseidon's wrath and the high seas. Aside from her real family, they were the only people Kassandra cared about, the only people she trusted to care for in a world determined to take everything from her. That in itself was a risk, a liability. The more people Kassandra cared for, the more people there were for the cult to take from her, just as they'd taken Phoibe.

Against all of her better judgement, Kassandra already felt bonded with Brasidas, a friendship that she'd tried to fight for fear of what it might become. He was a man she admired, respected, _trusted_. A man who in another life may have even been someone who could have had her heart. He was everything she should avoid, everything that could make her vulnerable.

A potential weakness that she couldn't afford.

And yet, his presence at her side had brought warmth, brought comfort at a time when she'd convinced herself that there was none. He'd somehow had the right words to help her, the kindness to see her in a place where most only saw a _mistios_. He possessed bravery that she didn't, the courage to offer his life in service to someone he admired, to follow the Fates and the journey they'd weaved for them with complete certainty. He viewed her as an equal, despite her position as a mercenary, and his eyes never once looked upon her as though she was something to be used or manipulated. Nor did he look at her as though she was a God or a hero, instead seeing through the stories that surrounded her and seeing her as what she was, _human_.

She cared for him because he saw her. _Kassandra_. The woman underneath all of the armour and the blood. If he sailed with her, Kassandra feared that she would become too attached to that feeling of understanding, that she would lose her strength and allow herself to care for him in a way that her heart ached for. If that happened, she'd give him the power to destroy her, a power that she had denied everyone since mount Taygetos.

It was a battle between her heart and her mind, between a woman and a warrior. It was a fight that the warrior in her needed to win.

Instead, her heart was stronger.

"We leave at nightfall." The words tumbled from her lips because she could fight them further. "Will you be ready?"

"I'm a man of few possessions." There was a happiness in his features that Kassandra had never seen. "I'll need to retrieve my armour and shield from the camp."

"My ship is the Adrestia." He likely already knew more about her crew than he should, but Kassandra spoke the words regardless. "Barnabas is my captain, he'll see you to a bunk below deck and a place for your belongings."

"Are you not coming?" Brasidas stood slowly, stretching out his long limbs in the process. He gave her a knowing look. "We both know this mountain isn't going to give you the answers or the comfort that you seek."

"And what will?"

"Only time, but she's a cruel mistress." He shrugged. "So join me instead."

" _Why?_ "

"There's a shrine of sorts, in the camp. Talking to the Gods right now is likely the last thing on your mind, but we could stop there, say a prayer for your friend, for Phoibe." He held out his arm, his hand outstretched towards her. "Perhaps she'll even hear us in Elysium."

Kassandra took his hand, his grip tight as he helped pull her to her feet. The sudden movement had her head swimming and she faltered, but his warm hand was already there to support her as she did so, the ghost of a touch that landed in the centre of her back. It was gone as instantly as it appeared, Brasidas showing his satisfaction with a nod before he strode out towards the trail that lead back down the mountain with only a quick glance over his shoulder to beckon Kassandra after him. She followed out of instinct, weary feet keeping to the trail and mirroring his sober ones as closely as she was able.

That touch was a beginning. A beginning of a partnership, of a friendship. The start of a fresh chapter in Kassandra's odyssey. A choice that would shape her life with every new day that dawned.

It was only when she looked back, many years later, that she would appreciate just how lucky she had been to have Brasidas burst into her life, unapologetic and brash. To appreciate that with the weakness that came from loving him, came so much more strength than she could ever imagine.

They were stronger together. But it would take time for Kassandra to learn that…

 

 


	2. I of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Naxos isn't as easy as the crew of the Adrestia had hoped, with a violent storm damaging the Adrestia. In amongst all the chaos, Brasidas and Kassandra grow closer, much to Aspasia's displeasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot begin to explain how much all of the kudos, comments and tumblr asks I've received over the last couple of days have meant to me. I literally expected no one to read this and yet I have been blessed with some wonderful comments. Thank you! This chapter is kind of like two merged together, which is my version of a thank you for all of your support. You're all awesome! 
> 
> -x-Sass-x-

* * *

 

The calm waters off the coast of Attika did not last.

It was as if the cult had entreated with Poseidon himself, sending all of his wrath to bear down on the Adrestia as soon as they left sight of the shoreline. The calm waters of the bay quickly had become a thing of the past and the Adrestia had lurched and heaved, her bow swamped as it crashed against dark, jet black waves. Every able member of the crew was set to task on deck, fighting to pull in the gigantic main sail whilst others tried desperately to keep the ship on course and away from any sharp, ship killing rocks.

Kassandra had left command to Barnabas and his decades of experience, instead rushing as fast she was able to the prow of the ship, bailing out the water that washed over the bow from the hulking, swelling waves beneath them. With Brasidas and Odessa at her side, they'd worked tirelessly through the night, until their backs ached, and their drenched clothes clung to their bodies like a second skin.

In the commotion, Kassandra had sworn that she'd seen Brasidas _laughing_ , as if the seas were just another opponent for the Spartan to outwit and overcome.

For Kassandra, the storm was the beginning of the worst hangover of her life.

By dawn's first light, Poseidon relented. The grey pink sky, although still mostly blanketed in cloud broke just enough to allow the sun's rays to shine back down onto the shimmering water and with it the wind dropped and the deadly swells lost their anger. As the sun began to steadily rise in the sky, the true damage of the storm was brought to light, the Adrestia battered after her twilight battle. The deck was a mess of splintered planks and debris, the main sail partially hoisted from its moorings, caught by the high winds before the crew had been able to fully secure it. Men and women littered the deck, pale and shell shocked from their night of excursion, those who had made it through the storm unscathed tending to the injured with water and whatever supplies they had.

It was a miracle that even amongst all of the chaos, no lives had been lost. Kassandra had thanked the Gods for that, promising them a proper sacrifice when they next made landfall.

Bitterly however, she wondered how she hadn't already sacrificed enough.

"You're bleeding." Kassandra had been slumped over at the back of the ship when Brasidas found her, her aching head cradled in her hands. His words were accompanied by a squeeze of her left shoulder, his concerned smile what greeted her when she finally reopened her eyes.

"What?"

"Your arm." His touch left her shoulder and he kneeled beside her, deft hands already extending her arm outwards towards him so that he could examine the damage. Kassandra winced, a hiss leaving her lips as she suddenly became aware of the deep slash across her left bicep, blood running in rivulets down her arm. It wasn't a deep, threatening injury, but could still become badly infected if she left it untreated.

"I'll clean it." She tried to shrug him off, but it was a weak action, her head still hammering within the confines of her skull. Her right arm reached across her body, pulling at her skin to examine the wound closer. She hissed. " _Malaka_."

"Let me. Barnabas will only have me scrubbing the deck if he catches me idle." Brasidas smiled, reaching for the water skin that was looped around his belt. Unfastening it, he uncorked the bottle with his teeth, before gently pouring cool water into the wound, washing away the blood as it was flushed down her arm and onto the wooden deck below. "It's barely a scratch, you'll live."

"A shame." Kassandra laughed darkly, wincing at how the sudden noise made her head pound. "Death would be a mercy right about now."

"The perils of honeyed wine."

"Maybe someday I'll learn to avoid it."

"I wouldn't count on it." Brasidas laughed, taking a clean rag from the pouch also secured to his belt and dabbing gently at the cut to dry it. "I've met both of your parents, remember? Hard-headedness runs in your family, _mistios_."

" _Fuck you_." Kassandra muttered, although there was a tinge of humour in her words that didn't go unnoticed by her friend. "Stubbornness is a Spartan trait that ails you just as much as me."

"And yet I feel absolutely fine this morning."

" _Malaka_... I had a head start on you with the drinking. Had you been there the entire evening, it would be a different story."

"Sounds like a challenge, _mistios_." He smiled, although his eyes didn't look up from his task as he wrapped the makeshift bandage around her arm, securing it with an almost impossibly neat knot. "One night I might take you up on it."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from the Great Brasidas of Sparta." Kassandra smirked, admiring his work on the bandage. She twisted her arm experimentally in its socket, impressed when the bandage didn't hinder her movement. Looking back to the man kneeling in front of her, she raised an eyebrow, for the first time taking in his dishevelled appearance. He was still just as drenched from the night before as she was, his armour lost like hers and replaced by the grey linen robes he wore underneath. His short hair was stuck down against the skin of his forehead and around his ears and the normally perfect braid that crowned his head was messy, the thick strands loose from their confines and sticking out at all angles. Kassandra laughed, her smile teasing. "I'll admit, you've looked better, friend."

"As have you." Brasidas took her comment with good humour, straightening up so that he was no longer kneeling in front of her. "You're so pale this morning I half expected to find you spilling your guts over the side of the ship."

"So sorry to disappoint. But at least _I_ have an excuse."

"You have me there." He grinned, watching as she stood slowly to stand beside him. "But truly, how do you feel?" In a way that was becoming characteristic of him, Brasidas' tone switched, the warmth of his smile there but accompanied by a more caring, knowing tone in his voice.

"Better for having a friend who understands." Kassandra spoke plainly, nudging him with her elbow in an attempt to show the sentiment she felt where her words failed her. "It'll take a lot of time as you said. But thanks to you I feel... less _alone_ than I did last night."

"Perhaps it’s a sign that you should talk more, eh? You have a fine crew here, Kassandra. It's plain to see that every man and woman on this crew cares for you. I'm confident they'd all listen, should you give them the chance."

"Now you're starting to sound like Barnabas. Maybe it was a mistake after all, letting you join the crew. The last thing I need is someone else who talks more sense than I do."

"Apologies. I'll try to keep my wisdom to myself." Brasidas beamed at her. "It will be _difficult_ , but I'll try. _For you_."

Their shared laughter lifted a weight off of Kassandra's shoulders, but it was soon replaced by the glowering expression of Aspasia, who made her way up the steps towards them, still dry and relatively well kept thanks to her evening in the ship's hull with Herodotus. The storm had been no place for either of them and Kassandra had sent them both down there for their own safety, but in the light of morning when she was sore and exhausted, the sight of the woman looking in such perfect condition still riled Kassandra more than it should have. She sighed to herself, already anticipating the source of the displeasure on the other woman's features as she approached.

"A word, _mistios_?" Aspasia nodded in Brasidas' direction, although the smile that she wore was blatantly false. "Alone?"

"Of course. I should be helping Barnabas with the sail anyway." Ever aware of his surroundings, Brasidas didn't need telling twice. Ignoring Aspasia all but completely, he placed a hand on his chest, giving Kassandra a respectful, shallow bow. "You know where I'll be if you need me."

"... Aspasia, I trust you slept well?" Kassandra said as soon as he was out of earshot, almost managing to mask the sarcasm in her voice. _Almost._

"Jokes, Kassandra, really?"

"Sometimes it's for the best. But tell me, how can I help you?"

"I would have words about our newest addition to the crew." She folded her arms, no elaboration necessary as to who she was referring to. "I would have thought it prudent to speak to myself and the others before you made such a decision."

"There was little time." Kassandra waved her hand at Aspasia dismissively. "I was given an opportunity and I took it."

"Yet there was time enough for you to drink yourself into a stupor?" The other woman raised an eyebrow.

"My best friend was murdered. Or had you forgotten?"

"You speak as though you're the only one to mourn Phoibe. Or the only one who lost someone they loved to the cult." Aspasia's words matched Kassandra's in bitterness, but her eyes showed more fire. "I loved that child and felt her loss just as keenly as you. But we have obligations... _priorities_ that have to come first." She paused, her voice softer this time. "There will be a time to grieve for them the way that they both deserve, Kassandra. I promise you."

"Then I apologise. I acted rashly, without thinking."

"Can the same be said about your decision to bring Brasidas with us?"

" _No_." Kassandra shook her head, resolute. "That is the one thing that I _don't_ regret."

"I don't trust him."

"No one is asking you too."

"His presence on this ship would suggest otherwise."

"My ship, the last time I checked." Kassandra rolled her eyes, surveying the woman in front of her carefully. It was difficult, she appreciated, the fact that in Aspasia's fall from grace in Athens she had gone from a role of leadership to one now little more than a refugee, but Kassandra's good will only extended so far when it came to Aspasia's need to throw around her advice and orders as though the Adrestia was hers. She had already irritated Barnabas to the point of madness and they had barely been sailing a day, the captain withdrawing to the other end of the ship whenever Aspasia was near.

Bastard. Kassandra needed the support, especially then when the sun itself felt _loud_.

"You've trusted me so far, what's stopping you in trusting me about this?" Kassandra's words were measured, but there was a stern quality there that she knew the woman would hear. "I love this ship _and_ its crew. I would never do anything to jeopardise either of them."

"True, but in this I fear that your judgement might be clouded. He's a Spartan, Kassandra. _And a spy_." The words left Aspasia's tongue bitter, her arms folding again as she looked down the length of the ship, eyes fixed on where Brasidas was stood, long, lean body stretched out as he helped the crew inspect the main sail. Kassandra's gaze followed but for a moment, although she was careful not to let it linger. The last thing she needed was Aspasia getting any delusions about her motives for bringing him with them.

Even if there was _some_ truth within those delusions.

"And he's a friend. What of it?"

"You open us up to unnecessary risk-"

"I bring with us another warrior to fight the cult." Kassandra hissed, a tired hand rubbing at her eyes. "Brasidas and I have spilled blood together and have bled the same. I trust him to be at my back when I face the cult. Considering that this is _my_ ship... I think that is all that matters."

"You're as hard-headed as Perikles." Aspasia shook her head, throwing her hands up into the air. "I pray to the Gods that you don't find the same fate."

"And if I do find myself at the end of a Spartan spear, I'm sure you'll be satisfied in knowing that you were right all along."

"By the Gods, Kassandra! That isn't what I meant..." She paused, clearly reigning herself in from another outburst. "But you're a captain now. A leader... sometimes you have to trust the intuition of someone other than yourself." 

"And I have. The only problem here is that in this one instance, I've chosen _not_ to take your advice."

Aspasia was speechless at that, her mouth hanging open as if Kassandra had torn the words from her very lips. In reality, Kassandra had no desire to argue with the woman, her frustration and bitterness exacerbated by her own exhaustion. It was frustrating, yes, having to defend a friend she genuinely did not believe to be a risk, but in reality the real betrayal in Kassandra's heart came from the feeling that Aspasia didn't trust her judgement, even after she had sacrificed everything and done every single task the woman had set for her. It hurt, to be scolded as a child when she was anything but, her actions being the one thing that had kept Aspasia alive in the first place.

Kassandra took a breath, using the time carefully to push away her frustration and keep her composure. She'd had every intention of continuing their debate, her mind desperately searching for the right words with which to make Aspasia understand. However, she was robbed of the chance unceremoniously as Barnabas appeared, hovering in the corner of her vision, his face giving away the fact that the news he brought was anything but good.

"Barnabas?" Turning her attentions away from the angry Athenian before her, Kassandra looked to her captain. "How's the ship?"

"Wounded, commander. The hull is taking on water, slowly, but without repairs we won't be able to stay afloat forever." He sighed, his good eye giving one quick, confused glance to Aspasia. "The main sail is also torn. Not completely, but enough to weaken it."

"Do we have what we need to make repairs?"

"Some, but we need dock to make them properly. Poseidon might be appeased for now, but we're unlikely to survive another storm if his mood changes. At least the winds were a blessing of sorts as they drove us towards Keos. Docking there would allow us to make repairs and trade for any salvage we don't already have."

"The Pirate Islands?" Aspasia finally found her tongue again. "We'll lose what little we have left of the ship before we even have the _chance_ to repair it."

"Xenia owes us more than a few favours."

"And we trust a pirate to honour anything that she owes?" Aspasia shook her head. "If we push on to Delos, I have friends there who'll help us."

"Delos is too risky, commander. I agree it would be a safer option, but with the low wind we are relying entirely on our oars. The crew are exhausted... it will take everything they have just to make it to Keos."

"Then we have no choice." Kassandra nodded, acknowledging Aspasia's concerns but trusting in Barnabas' experience more. The man had never failed her and she doubted that a better captain existed within the Aegean. "Plot a course for Koressia. We'll dock and make repairs and in the meantime I'll lead a small hunting party to gather food for the crew."

"This is madness!" Aspasia hissed.

"The Gods have left little choice. Delos would be the safer option, but I won't risk everything just to reach its shores when Keos is so close. I'm sorry."

"Then let us pray that you are right and Xenia is feeling generous. Otherwise everything we lost yesterday will have been for nothing."

 

* * *

 

In the end the Gods had little to do with Xenia's generosity. Ultimately it was the promise of a future treasure hunt and a fat coin purse that swung her favour, plus an additional expense to the steward at Koressia dock which he likely pocketed for himself.

Aspasia was displeased, Barnabas was worried about his ship and crew and Kassandra cared little for the lost gold, considering it little more than inconvenience in the face of what they would gain from docking somewhere so close by.

Even so, she left a full guard on board the Adrestia at all times. Just in case.

The crew were starving, the majority of the dried provisions in the hull ruined by water damage. Barnabas had been able to procure some replacements, although food on Keos was never in plentiful bounty. But Kassandra knew that if for nothing but the morale of her warriors, she would need to provide them with something more than salt fish and stale bread, fresh meat with which they could fill their bellies and recover their strength from the exhaustion of the night before.

Fortunately boar _were_ a plentiful commodity on Keos, provided a person had skill enough to hunt them without finding themselves gored by their formidable tusks. Although her plan had been to stalk them alone, Brasidas was having none of it and insisted he accompany her and so, once the height of the noonday sun had passed, they headed up into the hills above Koressia, loaded with bows and spears.

A fresh water spring had given them the ground they needed, a lure to the thirsty animals that had them drop their guard in the heat of the afternoon sun. From their vantage position in the bushes, Kassandra had managed to kill the larger of the two boars with a precise arrow shot to its neck. Whilst the beast had tumbled to the floor, squealing as its blood flowed to redden the spring, Brasidas had made an attempt on the second animal. His spear had flown through the air, hard and fast, striking the animal dead centre in its chest. It fell with a whimper, twitching impaled and bleeding beside its companion on the floor.

"You should have brought a bow." Kassandra said with folded arms, watching as Brasidas finished off his boar with his hunting knife. "Your way just gets your hands dirty."

"My _pater_ called a bow a coward's weapon." He smiled, wiping the dagger and his hands on a rag before placing it back into his scabbard. "The most Spartan of all Spartans."

"He should have met my _pater_. They would have been _great_ friends."

"Perhaps, although I don’t come from such grand beginnings as you, Kassandra of Sparta."

"Maybe I should teach you?"

"Very funny." Brasidas rolled his eyes. "I have some skill with a bow, just nothing compared to you."

"Some might the say the same about your skill with a spear…"

" _My heart_..." Grinning, Brasidas grasped at his chest, feigning a stab wound from her words. "You wound me, Kassandra."

"And you make it too easy." Hunching over her kill, Kassandra hogtied it with ropes as best as she was able, pulling the cords tight to make the animal as easy to carry as possible. "Besides, you're fun to tease."

"Is that so?" She looked up just in time to catch Brasidas cock an eyebrow and for a split second she feared she'd overstepped, having spoken the words so freely and without thinking. There was a pause as he straightened up, before a smirk pushed against his features. "How about a wager, _mistios_?"

"A wager? On what?"

"We fight, you and I. No spears, bows or blades."

"You want to spar?"

"I want you to put your money where your mouth is. 100 gold pieces says that I can beat you." Brasidas folded his arms across his broad chest. "... Unless you're scared?"

" _Please_ , the only thing I'm scared of is damaging your pride." Kassandra laughed. "Where do you want to do this?"

"The here and now suits me. Unless you feel the need to train?"

" _Malaka_..." Kassandra hissed, beginning to unbuckle her armour and weapons. "When I beat you and _I will_... just remember that you asked for this, Spartan."

It was a good thing that the hills above Koressia were sparsely travelled. Their prizes stowed away high in a nearby tree, Kassandra had little doubt that they must have cut a ridiculous image, stripped down to their respective linen robes and dancing around each other like circling sharks. Even then, Kassandra cared less, the Spartan she pretended no longer to be unable to turn down a fight, even with a friend. Even so, the mere thought of sparring had given her a buzz of excitement, the promise of being able to blow off steam in a controlled environment with someone that she trusted. It felt like the closest thing to a remedy for her frustrations that she had been offered in a long time. A part of her wondered if Brasidas was shrewd enough to know that, that his motivations were less about competition and more about her, but she pushed them aside, deciding that in reality, his true drive mattered little. All that mattered now was the fact that she'd beat him, one on one, hand to hand, with no weapons or armour standing in her way.

The first punch that he threw in her direction however made her doubt herself.

There was no hesitation in his movements as he came at her, his first colliding with her blocking arm with enough force to make her muscles ripple. He swung around with a left hook and she countered, ducking underneath his blow and pivoting towards his exposed flank. He read her movements perfectly and twisted as she moved in with a punch of her own, batting her hands away with more force than she'd anticipated. With a breathless laugh, Kassandra lost her footing, stepping backwards to regain her balance.

Her friend could read her too well. The only solution? To act in a way he _wouldn't_ anticipate.

She came at him again with full force, faking as hard as she could that she was about to land a blow to his nose, a quick and easily frustrated move that he would see coming. He anticipated her perfectly, moving to cover his face just as she ducked at the last minute, a heavy punch connecting with his stomach. Groaning with the impact from the hit, he doubled over with just enough presence of mind to dodge forwards, protecting himself from a follow up blow.

Visibly winded, Brasidas straightened up, a smug grin plastered across his face. He looked as though he was enjoying the every second.

This time it was Brasidas that mixed up his fighting style. He came at her with impossible speed, choosing agility over strength this time, bombarding her with hits that she barely had the time to counter. The speed caused Kassandra to falter and a punch hit her squarely in the jaw, forcing her lips against her teeth from the impact. Tasting iron, she ducked another one of his hits, spitting blood.

She thought she had him, but he caught her off guard, grasping a handful of her shirt and yanking her backwards at the exact moment she'd tried to twirl around to face him, the momentum causing her to fly backwards to the floor. Landing flat on her back, Kassandra spluttered, watching him advance on her with the smuggest of grins. Switching to defensive tactics, she played up her breathlessness, allowing him to draw close enough to be in range of her legs. In a single fluid movement, she kicked upwards, both legs wrapping around one of his and yanking it out from underneath him. Although strong, Brasidas dropped to the floor like a stone and from there it was a mad scramble on her part, racing to capitalise on her victory and she crawled over him, her hips pinning him in place whilst her forearm holding him down by the throat.

"Nice try..." She laughed, exhausted, her arm pressing against his throat so closely that she could feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "... Maybe I should go easier on you next time?"

"The opposite... I had to get you angry before you started fighting to win." He wriggled underneath her grip, although his eyes bore into hers in a way that Kassandra didn't quite know how to handle. "Maybe next time."

"There's going to be a next time?"

"Why not? We learn the most about each other whilst we're fighting." He smirked up at her from the floor. "Although we might have to _stop_ fighting for money. You'll bankrupt me."

There was something in that smile of his that sent Kassandra's heart racing, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. The way in which his skin creased at his eyes, warm brown pools looking up at her in admiration; it weakened her more than she could already afford. Combined with the close proximity of their bodies, his torso wedged between her thighs so that she could feel the hard muscle of his body through his tunic, Kassandra was stumbling, losing all control of her thoughts with every second that she stayed still.

She tore herself away as quickly as she could.

Standing up promptly, she offered him her good arm, pulling him upwards from the floor when he accepted it. Still avoiding his gaze, she wiped the blood from her mouth on the back of her hand, headed towards her discarded gear which thankfully kept her back turned to him whilst she gathered herself.

"We should get back. The crew will be threatening to kill and eat Aspasia if we're any longer with their meat."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" She heard Brasidas laugh behind her before he appeared at her side, accepting his armour that she handed to him. "What? It's just a thought."

"She doesn't like you."

"That's not exactly a surprise." He shrugged, securing his chest plate. "I can't say that I trust her either... I've always found it more difficult to measure a person who fights with words rather than a blade."

"That might be the most Spartan thing that you have ever said."

"There's time yet." He flashed her another grin. "You still haven't seen me drunk. Perhaps you could buy enough wine for the both of us with your winnings."

"Or perhaps I could use them on something productive?" Kassandra shook her head.

"But where's the fun in that?" Throwing her a mischievous wink, Brasidas reached for his kill from earlier, heaving the animal onto his back and pulling the ropes into place. He grunted under the dead animal's weight, hoisting it higher onto his shoulders. "Come on... we can discuss your winnings when we both have full bellies."

They headed back to the Adrestia in silence, walking as fast as they could with the weights on their backs. Although Brasidas seemed unaffected by the afternoon's events, Kassandra couldn't stop replaying their fight in her head, more specifically the emotions that had flooded through her system when they had been so close. The night before, she had been so convinced that she only had the _potential_ to feel something for Brasidas, that if she kept herself in check she would stop herself from ever letting him become a problem.

And yet barely a day later, she'd already caught herself floundering.

It was simply too easy to relax in his presence, to feel at ease with him to a point that she lowered the walls that she so tirelessly built for herself. It was scary how easily she could just forget everything and get caught up in their friendship, when in reality she needed the hold the man at arm's length for both their sakes.

Brasidas had been right when he said that fighting was the best way to know a person. Their sparring had taught Kassandra a valuable lesson, had shown her that needed to check herself often to stop herself from falling, from wanting to be the person she saw reflected back at her in his eyes. It was already a little addictive, a part of her wanting more no matter how much it scared her, but in recognising it early, she hoped that losing sight of herself around him in the future would be so much more unlikely.

Her destiny was already taking shape, the destruction of the cult and reuniting her family stretching out in front of her like impossible dreams that she only hoped she could realise. There was simply no room in her heart to hope for anything more, for a time when she didn't have to constantly watch her emotions around her friend.

In a perfect world, maybe they would be different. But in the world they'd been given, Kassandra had to be prepared to do whatever it took to ensure her own survival.


	3. So Here We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassandra finally finds out more about Brasidas whilst the journey towards Myrrine in Naxos brings them ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter and possibly a bit self indulgent, because this week I've been sick with the flu and needed something to comfort my soul. I've also employed some artistic license when it comes to Brasidas and his background, considering that I as able to find very little information when doing my research. Technically having a dead mother is inaccurate, but considering the quote I found was her saying that there were many Spartans better than him, I decided that I didn't like her very much. :P
> 
> Please enjoy and thank you again for all of your love and support! You've all quite literally made my week with your comments and I hope this chapter lives up to everything you want it to. <3
> 
> -x-Sass-x-

 

_“But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.”_

**_Mumford & Sons_ **

****

* * *

 

 

The closer the Adrestia came to Naxos, the sicker Kassandra became.

It was an odd sensation, hurtling through the waves towards a woman who she hadn't see in 17 years, Myrrine the unattainable goal that she'd been searching for ever since she'd washed up on Kephallonia's shore. Her _mater_ represented everything that Kassandra had been missing; the family she longed to be a part of. Seeing her again had been her true drive ever since the moment she’d lost sight of her on Taygetos, before the world slipped into darkness and she woke up, broken, bruised and alone.

Myrrine had always been so far away, even when Kassandra had her own ship and crew and the means to follow her. But now she was just so close.

_Too close_. Although Kassandra wanted nothing more than to see her, there was a growing part of her that felt raw, opposed towards the very idea. The seeds of doubt were already in her mind, the worry that she'd not be enough, that she'd be a _disappointment_. That someone simply being alive and able to find her _mater_ after everything would not be enough. It was terrifying to feel so out of control and vulnerable, a sensation that grew and grew the closer they sailed to Naxos.

Kassandra didn't deal well with feeling weak, in truth she wasn't used to the emotion. And so, she did what she always did when faced with emotions she didn't want to feel. She hid away, retreating into herself for fear of letting the crew see her so exposed.

It almost worked too.

It was the early hours of the morning and Kassandra was below deck, hunkered down in what was considered her "quarters". In reality it was simply a portion of the ship's hull that was cordoned off and called hers, thin planks and curtains cutting it off from where the rest of the crew ate and slept. Inside, Kassandra kept only the sparsest of possessions; a chest for her armour and weapons and a smaller, ornate trinket box that held oil and a bone comb for her hair. The only other furniture was a place for Ikaros to call home, fashioned from an old, gnarled tree branch that protruded from the floor. A favoured resting place for her most trusted friend when he grew tired of circling the skies above the Adrestia and the waves.

Now Ikaros was sitting atop his perch, squawking content whilst Kassandra fed him another hunk of meat from the end of her knife. It was supposed to be hers, but with her appetite well and truly lost, she figured that at least one of them should benefit from the meal.

"Hungry tonight, aren't you?" She smiled softly, stroking the downy feathers at his throat affectionately. Ikaros squawked again, although this time the sound was quieter, as affectionate a sound as the bird could make. "Get some rest, friend. I'm going to need you in the morning."

"Shouldn't you be resting too?" A voice, most definitely not Ikaros' startled her and Kassandra jumped in her skin, cursing under her breath at the chuckle she earned from the intruder. She looked to her left, to where Brasidas held the curtain that covered the doorway to one side. He was grinning as per usual, his face softly lit by the low lamplight of the room.

"I could say the same to you."

"I'm not the one meeting my _mater_ in the morning." He shrugged, surveying her with those eyes that read her so easily. "Should I stay or go?"

"You can stay." Kassandra nodded in response, trying to be as nonchalant as possible in her agreement despite the little voice in the back of her thoughts scolding her for giving them even more time to be alone. She turned her back on him, returning to her bedroll and sitting down with crossed legs. "But close the curtain, I'd rather at least maintain the pretence of privacy."

She watched him closely, his movements careful as he did as she asked, replacing the curtain as though it had never been disturbed. Bare footed, he stepped towards Ikaros, reaching out and rewarding the bird with a soft stroke to the head as he passed. _Traitor_. Ikaros had accepted Brasidas right from the start, something that the bird did very rarely.

It had been one of the reasons that he had earned Kassandra's trust so easily, her companion the best judge of character that she knew. Now, that trust merely pushed at her resolve.

"I didn't bring wine this time." Brasidas smiled, seating himself in front of her. "I thought you'd disapprove."

"It's probably best to meet my _mater_ not smelling like a taverna." Kassandra laughed. "Thanks."

"There'll be plenty of time for her to learn the truth about her daughter..." He teased, dodging her attempt to swat at him with the back of her hand. "I'm joking of course. You tend to smell a lot better than most mercenaries."

"And you'd know that how, I wonder?" This time it was her turn to taunt him, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. "Sounds like someone has a sordid past?"

"Sordid?" Hardly. I've just fought a lot of mercenaries in my time."

"Sure... _fought_."

"I fear that you think I'm far more interesting than I actually am, Kassandra."  He raised an eyebrow curiously, still smiling although his eyes were there again, perpetually reading hers. "I'm not known for my gift of seducing every _mistios_ in my path. Apologies."

_Just this one then_. The thought chased across Kassandra's mind before she could stop it, but she kept her face blank under his scrutiny. Already chiding herself for letting their conversation twist into almost flirting, Kassandra paused, already too aware of the need to shift to more innocent topics. It was then when she realised that for everything Brasidas knew about her, she knew so little about him. He was always so quick to speak about everything but himself, happy to laugh and joke and deflect whenever directly questioned.

She decided there and then that needed to change.

"Maybe it's because we always end up talking about me and never the other way around?"

"But you're so much more interesting than I am, _mistios_."

"I doubt that."

"Says The Great Eagle-Bearer!" Brasidas grinned. "How could a humble soldier compete with one blessed by Zeus himself?"

"You could tell me and maybe we'll find out?" Kassandra rolled her eyes, her overly inflated title feeling all the more alien when spoken by a man she considered a friend. "Tell me about _yourself_ , Brasidas. Where's home?"

"Sparta."

" _Obviously_. But where?"

"You misunderstand..." He paused, all at once looking as on edge as she’d ever seen him. She watched as he all but considered lying to her, an anxious hand rubbing at the back of his head.

"… Home has always been an abstract idea to me. There was a place where I grew up, _yes_. A family too. But it isn't something I long for in the same way that maybe you do."

"And where is this family?"

"Dead, mostly.” His reply was blunt, but the sigh that left his lips betrayed his true emotions. “My _mater_ went to Elysium not long after I was born. I’m told my _pater_ was never the same after she died. He was Tellis, a man from a humble family but as loyal a Spartan as you could find. He was the man who taught me and my brother the importance of our shields, who pushed us to embrace our _agoge_ training and to honour the Gods."

"You have a brother?"

" _Had_." A sad smile flickered across Brasidas' features. For a moment his eyes left hers and flicked around the room in a desperate attempt to buy himself time. When his gaze returned to hers, there was a sadness reflected in his eyes, although it was also tinged with pride. " _Iasonas_. He was my elder by a couple of years and the very image of my _pater_. We trained through the _agoge_ together, then sailed together as soldiers. He was everything I ever wanted to be."

"How did he die?"

"In battle with the Athenians. We were separated, Iasonas chosen to lead a garrison of men whilst I was sent abroad to spy. His ship was surrounded by the Athenian fleet and overcome. I was told that he died honourably."

"Brasidas..." Kassandra found her mouth empty of words, guilt creeping into her thoughts at the realisation that she by being so wrapped up in her own grief she’d never stopped to think about what tragedies might have befallen her friend. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, his death isn't your burden to bear. It was painful, for a time... I held myself accountable for not being there with him when he needed me. But I know now that if I’d been there, _pater_ would have lost two sons instead of one that day."

"Everything you said about Phoibe..."

"I’d known that loss.” Brasidas nodded in agreement, fixing her with a kind smile. “That night above Athens, I saw everything in you that had filled me when Iasonas died. Seeing a friend go through that was _difficult_. I wanted to help."

"You did." Kassandra stated bluntly, caught somewhere between sympathy and empathy for his loss. "Others tried, but only you managed it."

"The Gods have given me a great gift, to be able to get through that thick skull of yours." He laughed softly, at home on more familiar ground. Leaning back on his hands he surveyed her with curious eyes. "Or perhaps... it's because we are more alike than we think?"

"Which mountain did your _pater_ throw you from?" Kassandra teased in return, her smirk breaking into a full-blown smile when he laughed heartily at her joke. There was always a pure kind of happiness that flooded her soul whenever she made him laugh, the sight as beautiful as it was endearing. "We could compare scars."

"I imagine _pater_ wanted to throw me from a mountain many times growing up. He was always so frustrated with me. Iasonas was always the better fighter, but I had an interest in so much more. I lapped up every story about the Gods, thought myself a modern-day Prometheus for a time with all my schemes. As I grew older, my interest switched to history and politics. I cared more for how Sparta was ruled than for fighting purely for its honour."

"And _pater_ didn't approve?"

" _Pater_ didn't _understand_." Brasidas shrugged. "Politics, history... these were things he considered less important. My interest in them only seemed to anger him. He used to joke that I was the most Athenian of Spartans... but it was never something that he took pride in."

"He sounds as blind as Nikolaos." Kassandra shook her head, his words ringing all too familiar. "You fight better than most Spartans I've met, but a country needs more than just warriors. I don't pretend to understand the Athenians and their symposiums but their enthusiasm about philosophy and learning isn't always a sign of weakness."

"And that is why I like you, Kassandra. You've _travelled_ , seen the world for what it really is. Seen both Sparta and Athens for what they truly are. People like us see the best and the worst in both. Our _paters_ are from a different world. A different time."

"For all his faults, Nikolaos was always proud of me. He found no weakness in showing it. I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"It was a childhood, no worse of better than any other. My _pater_ was a great man and I was fortunate to have my brother." Brasidas smiled fondly. "Just as you are fortunate to have Myrrine.”

"And what if I'm a disappointment?" Kassandra's voice faltered at that, her anxieties suddenly crashing back to the forefront of her thoughts. She looked up at him with worried eyes. "What if she expected _more_?”

"There isn't a _mater_ in the world who wouldn't be proud of you. Believe me, you couldn't be anything _more_ if you tried."

"And you are _biased_." Kassandra shook her head, her hands reaching up to comb her fingertips through her knotted hair. For once it was loose, hanging down past her left shoulder in unruly thick tendrils. It was only when the hair passed from between her fingers that she realised her hands were trembling. "We're getting close."

"Are you ready?"

"How can I be? I'm about to meet the woman I've feared dead for so long, a woman who thinks that _I'm_ dead. How do you even begin to prepare for that?"

"I'm not sure you can." Without further word, Brasidas stood, a fluid movement that startled her with its suddenness. Half expecting him to leave, Kassandra watched closely as he stepped around her, lowering himself to his knees again behind her on the bedroll. In an act of by now characteristic kindness, his hands chased hers away from her hair and he took it between his own fingers, gently pulling the strands into a braid identical to the one that she normally wore. "The Fates have already decided your path, Kassandra. All that remains is for you to follow their lead."

It was the gentlest gesture she could remember. His fingers were soft, knowledgeable as they twisted her hair together diligently, a constant ghosting presence against her scalp that brought with it more comfort than it should have. Without realising, Kassandra relaxed into his touch, long held tension dissipating from her shoulders and neck. She couldn't remember the last time such a small action had brought her so much peace, her heart aching for the closeness that she worked so hard to deny it.

And then it hit her like a wave. _Phoibe_. Memories of all the nights on Kephallonia when she would let her braid her long hair, whilst her friend spoke wistfully of eagles and blessings from Zeus. On those nights they had talked for hours, Kassandra telling Phoibe what little she remembered of Sparta whilst she told her tales of when her parents had been alive. Those nights had been the start of them becoming like family, Kassandra living in the fantasy of the childhood Phoibe had shared with her loving parents.

A childhood they'd both been robbed of all too soon.

Suddenly the pain was back, reminding her that Phoibe would never beg to braid her hair again.

Vulnerability followed in an instant, playing on her anxiety and pushing her over the brink. As Brasidas tied off her braid, Kassandra felt a tear slip from her welling eyes, the salty liquid painting a long, slow line down across her skin. She turned her head away, praying to whichever God might be listening that he wouldn't see her weakness, but with Brasidas nothing went unnoticed.

"Kassandra?"

"It's nothing." She shook her head dismissively, pulling her newly formed braid gently from his hands in the process. She turned, looking to where Ikaros sat on his perch and blinked away her remaining tears. "You just reminded me of Phoibe."

"There's no shame in feeling."

"But there is shame in weakness." Kassandra sighed, returning her gaze to his. "There's more honour in strength."

"Now who sounds like a stubborn Spartan?" Brasidas' smile possessed a warmth that blinded her and she faltered, transfixed by the creases that framed the very corners of his lips. "Don't turn into your _pater_ , Kassandra. You'll break my heart."

With a tenderness that she'd denied herself of for so long, Brasidas reached forward, his thumb and forefinger resting under her chin and slowly lifting it upwards so that she looked upwards. All at once, Kassandra's heart thundered in her chest; the sudden realisation of just how close he was dawning on her. Frozen in place by brown eyes that had fully ensnared her, she was helpless to do anything else but watch as he pressed closer, his lips grazing hers with a gentleness that felt like a question.

His question didn't go unanswered for long.

She kissed him back, leaning into his touch, completely lost to every inch of him. For a single, blissful moment, they stayed that way, locked in a soft embrace that threatened to end them both. Brasidas never pushed for anything more, although his hand moved to frame her face, his thumb rubbing away the damp trail her tears had left behind. When he finally broke the kiss, he didn't withdraw, instead keeping their faces close as he rested his forehead against hers.

"We shouldn't." Kassandra spoke first, her words betraying her emotions as she struggled to save face. She didn't pull away, she didn't have the heart to, but the beating of it in her chest had her scrambling to save herself from falling further despite it all.

"... We aren't." Brasidas smiled, still so close that his breath tickled against her lips. "You think too much."

"And you don't think _enough_."

"Perhaps that's what the Fates intended." He pulled back at that, broadening the gap between them. For a moment there was silence, his lips parted as though he had more to add. Instead, he lowered his gaze, smiling to himself before moving to stand. Kassandra started to stand too, but his outstretched hand stopped her, a shake of his head telling her that he didn't expect her to follow. "Sleep first. Focus on your _mater_. I... should have picked my timing better."

With that, Brasidas was gone, the room feeling so much colder without his presence within it.

Ikaros squawked indignantly in the background, but Kassandra barely heard him, her hand tracing her lips as she fought to process the kiss they'd shared. Her mind was split, halved by the fear of letting him get so close and by the relief of knowing that he cared for her just as much as she cared for him. It was a strange duality, one that comforted just as much as it scared her.

He was a weak point, a chink in her armour to be exploited. But he was also a place of strength and comfort when she was determined to give herself neither. Perhaps Brasidas was right. Perhaps the Fates had made them to be as two sides of the coin on purpose. Or perhaps that was simply Kassandra's traitorous heart talking.

With the night only promising more questions and precious few answers, Kassandra took her friend's advice, rolling over towards the oil lamp that lit the small room and extinguishing it, plunging both herself and Ikaros into total darkness. Fumbling for her blanket in the darkness, she pulled its comforting weight up and around her body, settling into her bedroll and the warmth that came with it.

Perhaps a rested mind would bring the clarity she so desperately needed. Even if it didn't, at least the peace of sleep would give her relief from the emotions flooding her system, if only for a little while.


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Brasidas had never been the man that she’d expected, a Spartan with depths that she was only now beginning to understand. He was a man who lived by the Gods, who believed in the life that the Fates had spun for him. She admired that strength in him, respected how he could give up control so readily when his faith asked it of him. 
> 
> Losing control was never something she was prepared to do."
> 
> -x-x-x-
> 
> In which Kassandra is finally reunited with Myrrine in Naxos and her friendship with Brasidas reaches an entirely new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness me, I am scared to post this chapter. This was one of those chapters where I set out with a really clear vision of what I wanted to write and then over time it evolved into something entirely different. It's got me feeling weirdly nervous, but if I stare at it and edit it any more I might just drive myself a little bit mad. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. You're all absolutely fantastic! 
> 
> -x-Sass-x-

A gentle sea breeze blew in from the coastline, turning Kassandra’s skin into gooseflesh. She tightened her grip on her cup of wine, staring out into the deep blue with fresh eyes. Across the water lay Paros, between the two islands a painted slick of seawater, shimmering silver in the moon’s glow. It was beautiful on Naxos. _Calm_. The illusion of safety ever present in the air.

Or perhaps, that was just what home felt like, the alien notion that she’d been missing for so long.

Her _mater_ was at her side, her mere presence still feeling as though she was little more than a trick of the Gods. They were sat in comfortable silence on the balcony of her villa, overlooking the sea and everything in between. Myrrine’s hand was a gentle presence on her forearm, comforting fingertips chasing away the goose bumps of her skin. It was as if her _mater_ was still so terrified that she might lose her, her touch ever present since the moment they’d finished dispatching Paros’ ill fated landing party. In truth, Kassandra paid the constant contact no mind, relishing the closeness she’d been without for so long just as much as her _mater_.

Home wasn’t always a place. It could sometimes be a person and tonight it was Myrrine.

“You’re beautiful, lamb.” Myrrine broke the silence, her voice soft as she gripped Kassandra’s forearm in an affectionate squeeze. “You’re everything the _Pythia_ promised me and so much more.”

“I’m what _you_ made me. The Gods had little to do with it.”

“Then they worked their magic through my hands.” With a sad smile, Myrrine finally relinquished her grasp, bringing her own cup of wine to her lips. “Tell me of Alexios.”

“I already told you… he’s too-“

“Far gone, _I know_.” The look in her _mater’s_ eyes was not one to ignore. “But tell me of the man he’s grown up to be so I can at least picture my son alive.”

“He’s… strong. Mighty. Wields a sword like a man possessed.” Kassandra paused, unsure of whether she had chosen her words correctly. “He doesn’t fight like a Spartan, but he has the same fire.”

“Is he handsome?”

“He looks like _pater_. Like _Nikolaos_.”

“Then that is a yes. Nikolaos was always of a form.” She laughed, although the sound became sad all too quickly, as though the memory of her husband had tarnished before her very eyes. “He would have been a good father to Alexios, had the Fates allowed.” 

“He betrayed our family.” Kassandra shook her head. “That is not a good father.”

“He _sacrificed_ our family for Sparta. That is a very different thing, lamb.” Myrrine sighed, the wrinkles in her brow furrowing from the action. “And we cannot forget that. Perhaps we will never forgive it. But the years apart have at least brought understanding in their wake. I know now why your _pater_ chose to do what he did… even if he did tear my heart in two with his decision.”

“… I almost killed him.” Much like her conversation with Brasidas back in Athens barely days before, Kassandra found the words slip from her lips with grim resignation. “I thought that it was what I wanted. But when I had the chance… I couldn’t do it.”

“Killing him would have been your right.” Myrrine nodded, her hand rubbing soft circles into Kassandra’s knee. “But I’m glad that you didn’t.”

“Do you still love him?” Kassandra hesitated, the question foreign on her tongue. She had no right to ask, but her own heart still felt something for Nikolaos, even in the face of everything else. She couldn’t forget, couldn’t pretend to understand as her _mater_ did but that did little to change the love she had for the _pater_ who had helped forge her into the woman she had become. Brasidas had eased her conscience, if only a little, but he hadn’t been on Taygetos the night that Nikolaos changed everything.

“He’s the _pater_ of my children.” Myrrine paused, turning from Kassandra and back to the sea. “I never stopped loving him, not really. I only learned to hate him for everything that he stole from me. Perhaps if I saw him again all of that hate would come rushing back.” Closing her eyes, Myrrine eased her shoulders, rolling out the tension held within them with a heavy sigh. When her gaze returned to Kassandra, her eyes were wet with caged tears. “But it doesn’t matter. None of it does, not now I know that you and Alexios yet live.”

“The Cult will feel the pain they inflicted on us.” This time it was Kassandra reaching out for her _mater_ , taking her hand in hers. “I swear to you.”

“I don’t doubt it. I will be there with you the moment we send the very last of their cowardly order to Hades. But there is much to do before then.”

“Paros?”

“ _Paros_. I will not let Naxos fall now after all that we have bled for here.” Myrrine paused, considering her next words carefully. “I do not ask for your help lightly, lamb. You and your men have no cause to bleed for Naxos or its people. You could leave and I would have no reason to stop you.”

“I could never leave you, not again.” Kassandra shook her head. “I don’t have a large crew, but the warriors I have are loyal. We will fight for Naxos in whichever way you see fit.”

“I don’t need warriors. I need _spies_ … people I trust to infiltrate Paros and weaken them where they sleep.”

“Then consider it done.” Placing her cup down on the balcony wall, Kassandra crossed her arms decisively. “Paros won’t be the first nation I’ve brought to its knees.”

“Alone? Lamb, I cannot ask that of you. I _won’t_.”

“I won’t be alone.” She smiled, shifting her position on the balcony wall so that her back was to the sea. “Brasidas will have my back. He has more than a little experience spying behind enemy lines.”

“Brasidas of Sparta?”

“You know him?”

“Barely… He was little more than a promising recruit the night I fled Sparta.” Myrrine cocked a surprised eyebrow, eyeing her daughter suspiciously. “How have you come to have a Spartan spy aboard your ship?”

“Through the luck of the Fates. He’s a friend.” The word wasn’t enough to sum up the man who consumed her thoughts, but Kassandra fought the emotion back, praying that her cheeks would not flush and give her away. Even after the day’s incredible events it was difficult to forget the taste of his lips or the electric shudder his kiss had sent through her body. By the grace of the Gods, Myrrine was not able to read her that well. _Yet_.

 “… He owes me a debt. I helped him kill a cultist in Korinthia. He was an enemy of Sparta.”

“I doubt there will ever be enough time for you to tell me all of your stories, lamb.” Myrrine smiled, the gesture filled with pride. She stood slowly, a little unsteady after all the wine they’d shared, pausing to stroke a hand across the top of Kassandra’s head. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss into her hair. “But I look forward to trying, never the less.”

“We have so much to catch up on.”

“And we will. Perhaps on a night where my bed isn’t calling me so strongly.” Myrrine laughed, although the yawn that followed gave her away. “My villa is yours for as long as you need it. Tomorrow, we can plan for Paros. You should bring your Spartan.”

“ _My_ Spartan?” Kassandra shook her head incredulously. “I will ask him, of course.”

“Good. _Sleep well_ , lamb.”  

With Myrrine gone, Kassandra tipped back her head, finishing her wine in one decisive gulp. At such a late hour, it would have been sensible to do the same as Myrrine and fall to her own bed, but every inch of her body felt alive with emotion, buzzing with a potent concoction of joy, excitement and relief. The sensation had her feeling anything _but_ tired, even with the warmth of the wine spreading through her body and limbs.

Hopping to her feet, Kassandra decided that there was already so much of Naxos she needed to explore.

 

* * *

 

The streets of the coastal town did not sleep.

They were quieter, but there was a bustle to the small island that captivated her. Tradesman took advantage of the cool air to finish their work, whilst men and women both lounged outside of the tavernas with cups filled with wine. The air was filled with soft laughter and chatter, sounds which guided Kassandra’s feet up the hill and towards the sacred temple of Dionysos. The closer she drew to the temple, the louder the revelry became. It was in fitting with the God himself.

The temple was small, but lavishly decorated, adorned in purple drapes which bore the golden embroidery of grapes and vines. The sanctuary itself was set within its own vineyard and in the cool night-time air the priests tended vigilantly to their crop. The steep marble steps that led up to the temple were covered with a multitude of different petals, colours like bright gems set against the dazzling white stone.

It was a place filled with life and yet peaceful all at once. Despite her scepticism of the Gods, Kassandra could never get enough of their temples. They were magical places, each new one that she visited unique and yet just as inspiring. It was always truly incredible to her what marvels mere mortals could create.

As she rounded the corner to look into the Sanctuary itself, Kassandra realised that she was not the only one who appreciated the temples of the Gods.

She caught sight of him before he saw her, his body hunched over as he knelt on one knee before Dionysos’ altar. Brasidas’ eyes were closed, his lips moving indecipherably as he uttered a prayer, one hand outstretched to touch the stone of the altar. He was back in his familiar Spartan uniform, shield strapped to his back, but without his spear, a short sword strapped to his hip instead. His face was cast mostly in shadow, flickers of yellow and orange dancing across his skin from the light thrown out by the altar’s fires.

It was unfair, how much he terrified her and consumed her all at once.

Too conflicted to confront him, Kassandra hung back, hugging the edge of the Sanctuary wall so that he did not spot her in his peripheral vision. She gave in to weakness and allowed herself to watch him for a few moments more, enjoying how oddly at peace the soldier looked in the company of the Gods. Brasidas had never been the man that she’d expected, a Spartan with depths that she was only now beginning to understand. He was a man who lived by the Gods, who believed in the life that the Fates had spun for him. She admired that strength in him, respected how he could give up control so readily when his faith asked it of him.

Losing control was never something she was prepared to do.

It felt wrong to linger and so Kassandra reluctantly moved on, slowly circling around the sanctuary so that she did not disturb him. From there, she doubled back, picking her way carefully through the revellers as she made her way around the back of the temple, turning left past its tall columns with a view to finally retreating back to her _mater_ ’s villa and her own bed.

A firm grip around her wrist changed her plans.

She was being pulled backwards before she knew what was happening and all at once she found herself in the shadows, huddled beside the ornate trellises that marked the priest’s quarters within the temple. As soon as she was able, she reached for her spear, twirling round and holding it below the chin of her assailant with a snarl. In return she was greeted by a hearty laugh.

_Brasidas_. Kassandra’s face flushed at the realisation that she had not been as stealthy as she’d thought.

“ _Malaka!_ I could have killed you.”

“You could have _tried_.” Brasidas grinned, his eyes skimming down to the blade at his throat. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t resist. The opportunity to startle you was too good to miss.”

“You’re a fool…” She lowered her spear, returning it to its rightful place at her back. Her attempt to be stern was heart felt, but it was clear that Brasidas saw straight through it. He was still grinning, that self-confident smile that he wore far too frequently in her presence. This time however his face was more flushed than usual, the grin across his lips that little bit wider. “… Are you drunk?”

“A _little_. Barnabas insisted that we toast your reunion with Myrrine. The actual toasting… well that might have lasted well into the evening.”

“So you came to pray?”

“Who better to understand than the God of wine himself?” He was laughing again, although this time Kassandra joined him, her laugh more exasperation than anything else. “I joke, _mistios_. I come to pray whenever we make landfall. It is a… mark of respect. Granted, tonight I should have probably fallen to my bed rather than come to fill the ears of the Gods.”

“And where is Barnabas now?”

“Odessa carried him back to the ship. He’ll be fine.”

“Good. Without him we’d be stuck on Naxos forever.”

“Would that be so bad?” Brasidas questioned, quirking an eyebrow. “They have plenty of wine, beautiful beaches, decent soil. I can imagine worse places to retire.”

“Aren’t we both a little too young to think of such things?”

“Perhaps… but it’s fun to imagine a life where we _don’t_ spend our days killing, don’t you think?”

“Don’t let Sparta hear you.” Kassandra mocked, “You’re supposed to dream of nothing but blood and glory.”

“If Sparta knew half of what I dreamed of, I would have been forsaken long ago.” He smiled, although the way in which he looked at her thoughtfully almost made Kassandra press him further. Instead she swallowed back her questions, choosing to let him make his next move. “Happiness suits you, Kassandra.”

“… _What?_ ”

“You look happy.” He shrugged as though his words were the most normal thing in the world. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you. It’s being here, isn’t it? With Myrrine?”

“She’s everything that I remembered and more.” A smile teased at the corners of her lips and Kassandra gave in, unable to hide her true emotions whenever he was near. “It feels like home here… even though I’ve never stepped foot on Naxos before today.”

“I’m glad for you. You deserve this. Every moment.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you. I’d probably still be wasting away in Athens. You saved me from myself that night.”

“It’s what friends do.”

“And that’s what we are? _Friends_?” The question slipped so easily from her lips that for a moment Kassandra was unsure if she had voiced it, only sure when Brasidas’ eyes widened in surprise. Instantly, she kicked herself, blinking hard as she despaired of her own thoughtlessness. When she opened them again, he greeted her with a kind smile, far too serious for a man who claimed to be drunk.

“…I’m not so sure of what we are to each other.” He spoke slowly, his every word considered, his head bowed in deference. “We are friends, yes… _but_ …” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “There’s always a _but_ , isn’t there?”

“It would be too easy otherwise.”

“And easy does not exist.” He laughed again, echoing his words from the first time they had met after sacking the Monger’s warehouse. Where his words failed him, he chose to act instead, his hands reaching out and ghosting a touch up her forearms until they came to rest on her biceps. “You and I will never be easy, Kassandra.”

“Says the fool who claims that he never thinks enough.”

“There is a mind beneath this thick skull of mine… _somewhere_ , at least.” He smiled at his own joke, his eyes flicking between her parted lips and her eyes. “Unfortunately, I tend to lose all reason when it comes to you.”  

His words gave her pause, suddenly so serious in their implication when everything between them before had been purely playful. For once, it was Brasidas who was laid bare in front of her, his heart open on his drunken sleeve and his confusion just as plain as hers. In his eyes was a mirror image of the conflicted emotions Kassandra herself felt, of wanting something but forever living in the knowledge that anything more than wanting could be a mistake.

It was a sign for them to part ways, for him to return to the Adrestia and for her to return to the villa, to pretend that this strange, drunken exchange born out of shadows had never happened.

And yet, Kassandra felt alive. Safe and secure in the knowledge that against all odds she had found her _mater_ and begun to rebuild the family and home that was torn from her. She was still filled with happiness, relief and excitement, peaked with the hedonistic light headedness that came from the wine she had shared earlier. For the first time in years, she had _gained_ something rather than lost it, was reassured rather than destroyed. With her reunion had come a sense of security, a feeling that somehow everything could work out in her favour after all.

A dangerous breed of optimism that had her wanting to take risks now more than ever.

In an instant, Kassandra plunged head first into the biggest risk she could think of.

She pressed forward slowly, but confidently, still fearful that if she moved any faster Brasidas would simply recoil from her. Instead, he pressed closer on instinct and their lips touched with a certainty that they had lacked the night before. Gone was the tentative tenderness of sobriety, instead replaced with something far more heated as they pushed closer, bodies grinding against each other as though they’d been forever starved of any contact. Their mouths opened, the kiss deepening as Kassandra fisted her hands around whatever clothing they could whilst Brasidas held her body hard against his, hands splayed out against her lower back.

She was pulling him after her, behind the trellises and into the empty priest’s quarters. Entirely engulfed in shadow, Brasidas let out a soft moan when Kassandra backed him up against the wall with force enough to bruise, her mouth moving to kiss a torturous line across his jaw and up to the shell of his ear. He humoured her but for a moment, until he quickly reversed their positions, this time crowding her up against the wall and sucking a string of kisses and bites down the column of her throat.

It was a fight for dominance that neither truly wanted to win, both consumed by the fire of fighting and little else.

Kassandra had never felt so alive, so aflame with sensation as Brasidas continued to lavish all of his attentions on her neck, his hands caressing every inch of her that they could reach. Her skin tingled and ached to be touched all at once, her own hands running up his arms and across his thighs with heightened impatience. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him, caring little for where they were or what the consequences may be.

It was simply enough to be this close.

Brasidas was the first to press for more, his fingertips sliding a steady trail up her inner thigh, towards the join between her legs. Deftly, they slipped past her small clothes and pressed against her heat, moving in slow, languid circles that were at complete odds with the relentless kisses at the join of her neck and shoulder.

The gasp that escaped her lips merely had Brasidas chuckling, his breath tickling against her damp skin.

Kassandra was lost, enveloped by his body in a way that made any thought of stopping impossible. She continued to tumble further as Brasidas moved his fingers against her, pulling a string of hushed curses from her lips. When he feared that they might be discovered, he changed position, covering her mouth in a dominant kiss that muffled her moans from unfriendly ears. His change in stance brought him closer, his body crowded up against her so that she could feel his hardness against her thigh.

Despite the distraction of his fingers, Kassandra wanted them to be together in this, equal in both risk and reward. Her hand slipped past his waistband and small clothes, firmly gripping his length in her palm. She was immediately rewarded with a soft groan, one that she muffled with her mouth as he had with her. When she began to move her hand, his body tensed, blasphemous words hissing from his lips as his head dropped to rest against hers.

From there, everything else was forgotten as they both chased the same goal, moving against each other like little more than frustrated teenagers. They were both breathless and panting as they came, a sheen of sweat settling on their skin. In the afterglow, neither wanted to move, their arms wrapped around each other lazily as they came down from their shared high.

“That...” Brasidas breathed, his cheeks flushed as he finally pulled away from her. He moved to readjust his armour, glancing at their surroundings properly for the first time since she’d dragged him behind the trellises. “ _That_ wasn’t exactly the offering I had planned on making tonight.”

“Me neither…” Kassandra didn’t quite trust her legs, instead choosing to remain leaning against the wall. She laughed, although the sound was tinged with more than a little embarrassment as her hands shot up to rub at her face. “Perhaps we should not have done that.”

“Was I that bad, mistios?”

“No… you know that isn’t what I meant…” Catching her lip between her teeth, Kassandra looked at him hopelessly. “You’re my friend… I just-“

“ _Please_ … I understand, believe me.” Brasidas shrugged, turning his back on her to glance idly at the stone statue that judged them from its pedestal in the centre of the room. “It does not need to change anything.”

“Truly?”

“ _Truly_ …” Turning around, he fixed her with a soft smile. “We _are_ friends. Friends who looked for something more in each other tonight, that’s all. We were alive with wine and victory… it’s not exactly rare.”

“And you sound like a man who has been alive with such things before…” Kassandra laughed, gaining her confidence as she threw him a sly smile. It was all just an act. The thought stung more than a little, to think that Brasidas thought of her as a friend and equal with who he could share certain benefits, but she was careful not to let it show, hiding the twisting in her stomach by matching his jokes. “…You have a past, my friend.”

“One that you still believe is so much more interesting than it actually is.” With a curt nod, Brasidas reached out for her, squeezing her arm companionably, at couple odds with the passion they had shared barely moments before. He stepped around her, towards the doorway. “I am for my bed. With luck I’ll find a bedroll far from Barnabas and his snoring.”

“I wish you good fortune.” Kassandra nodded in return. “Come find me at the villa tomorrow… if you’re able. My _mater_ would have words regarding our next move on Paros.”

“Of course. Good night, Kassandra.”

Only when she paused to watch him leave, did regret begin to settle in Kassandra’s belly, her mind silently cursing her body for leading her so astray. She felt laid bare, confused and more than a little embarrassed, irritated with herself for not explaining, for not having the right words to voice what her heart had already decided. She been content to let him believe the lie because speaking the truth was too difficult to bear.

Now everything felt awkward and forced and exactly not what she had hoped for.

Retreating back to the villa, Kassandra looked forward to a cold shower and the promise of sleep, already dreading the embarrassment that sobriety would bring come the morning’s light.

 

* * *

 

Turning his back on her was never easy, an act that grew harder each time he was forced to practice it. That night, when he had been so close, so lost in her… Brasidas had dared to hope that he might never have to do it again.

He had been wrong and that was the wound that hurt the most.

He’d been fascinated about the _mistios_ ever since the first night he’d seen her fight, all fury and might amongst the thick smoke and flames of that Gods forsaken warehouse. He’d admired her still when she’d spoken to him afterwards, always two steps ahead, intelligent and headstrong in her desire to save innocents and end the Monger. He found himself caring for her as they worked to bring down the man himself, had enjoyed their meetings in Korinthia as they poured over maps and evidence together, working in secret to bring the man to the light. He had thought of Kassandra as a friend long before she thought the same.

When he saw her outside Athens, broken and alone, Brasidas had realised that she was so much more to him than just an ally.

He had never intended to press, never intended to flirt and yet the weaker part of him was always stronger when she was around, the side of him that let him give into temptations he would otherwise force himself to weather. With Kassandra, he always found himself wanting more and the strength to deny that feeling continued to elude him.

With wine in his system and her body so close, Brasidas had let himself fall open before her, had said too much. He’d fallen and when she had kissed him it had felt so right that he allowed himself to hope that maybe the eagle bearer cared for him with a depth similar to that which he felt.

Her embarrassment afterwards had silenced that hope and Brasidas had closed himself off to save face, had joked as he always did because it was so much easier that way. His good humour had been another piece of armour for him to wear for so long that it had become second nature, something he fell back upon without even realising it.

It wasn’t enough, a quick fumble when in reality his heart ached to love Kassandra the way she deserved, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. But it was selfish, to dwell only on his own desires. Kassandra clearly wanted him too, but in her eyes he only ever found the reflection of friendship, of a woman who looked upon him as a trusted confidante. Perhaps that was what had led her to him that night, the trust that he was a safe place for her to blow off steam.

That their friendship was strong enough for it not to change anything. Who was he to deny her that?

What she wanted he would always gladly give, his life already promised to her the moment he set foot aboard the Adrestia. That kind of faith he usually reserved only for the Gods, but with Kassandra he would walk the lengths of the Greek world if she asked. Voluntarily, he had parted his heart from his chest and given it to her safe keeping. Where she lead, he would always follow.

The Spartan in him knew that it was folly, but as his _pater_ never tired of reminding him, Brasidas had never been the perfect soldier he’d been moulded to become. His _pater_ had loved once, but even he would never understand how a part of Brasidas’ heart would always belong to Kassandra and not to his homeland.

He would always continue to be the friend she needed him to be, even when he himself wanted so much more.

 


End file.
